


Glass Shards In His Words

by sorenne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorenne/pseuds/sorenne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The words leave Dean’s mouth and plop straight into what remains of Castiel’s mind, where they proceed to marinate, boil, and spontaneously combust for untold lengths of time. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Shards In His Words

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that time in episode 7x23 when Dean tells Cas that nobody cares that he’s broken? Yea, that sorta broke my heart. The line stuck with me and subsequently badgered me into writing something.  The result is somewhat disjointed and probably not entirely coherent. 

“Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas.”

The words leave Dean’s mouth and plop straight into what remains of Castiel’s mind, where they proceed to marinate, boil, and spontaneously combust for untold lengths of time. 

Nobody cares that he’s broken.

Isn’t that odd? They are supposed to care. They used to care, and now they don’t. He knows that he doesn’t fit in with them. He also knows that he can never squish himself into the warm, solid bubble of mutual understanding that seems to envelop the two Winchesters. And yet, against all odds, they had made it work. It was an odd partnership, to be sure – a triad that was meant to be a duo. But it had worked for a time. Popping up in the Impala on some unnamed highway had seemed almost like coming home.

There had been times when Cas wasn’t sure if he was really the third wheel, or if that dubious honor belonged to Sam. Those were the times that Dean would lock eyes with him and refuse to look away, matching him stare for stare as well as any member of his garrison. Those were the times when they would stand outside a dingy, old motel – just the two of them, with Sam somewhere deep in the bowels of his research – and Cas could almost believe that they had a mutual understanding bubble all their own.

There had also been pie, and Dean had cared. Now he doesn’t.

It is odd. 

He supposes it all makes sense in a twisted kind of way.  After all, he is odd now too, though he can’t quite see how this oddity manifests itself.

He pinches the skin on his forearm idly, moving his fingers away to see the red mark dissipate. His body certainly doesn’t look broken. All the pieces are in place, just like they should be.

He likes puzzles now.

He knows he could just zap the picture into place if he wanted too, but he never does. That isn’t nearly as fun as hunting under the ratty couch for a missing piece.

There are demons in his head, Castiel thinks. Or maybe it’s the Devil. Or maybe it’s unicorns. All he knows is that there is something in his head that’s pushing and whispering and prodding him off a cliff. It’s waiting for him to fall, to break, to crack. And the worst part is, Castiel isn’t sure that he hasn’t leapt off that cliff already.

The question is: is he still falling? Or has he already landed, cracked his skull against the ground, and descended into Hell, where he no doubt belongs?

The other question is: is Dean there? Is Dean falling with him? Is he still up on the cliff, calling him back? Maybe he is waiting down below for him. Or maybe he is nowhere. Maybe Dean doesn’t care anymore. Castiel desperately wants to know the answer.

But if he is being honest with himself…

Well, if he is being honest with himself, Castiel could admit that puzzles are almost as fun as Twister. 

  


FIN


End file.
